The little boy with a Michael Carter-Williams jersey will never understand why his favorite player is not a Sixer anymore. How are we supposed to explain to a child what “optionality” is?
Last week, in his latest venture into a murky future,
GM Sam Hinkie traded the NBA rookie of the year because he wanted more options. In Hinkie’s twisted world, the correct term is “optionality” – the process of turning the known into the unknown, a tangible reality into a vague new promise. Or something like that.
In case you missed my previous remarks in this space about Sam Hinkie, here is a synopsis: He is the biggest fraud I have ever encountered during my 40 years in sports media. He is a charlatan, a snake-oil salesman. He is the Pied Piper of the young and the naïve, people who are not savvy enough to spot the con.Sam Hinkie never saw Carter-Williams as a 23-year-old point guard still learning his craft. Carter-Williams is a real person, with all of his flaws and eccentricities.
Hinkie prefers blank spaces on future draft boards because they never throw the ball out of bounds or miss an open three-point shot. Analytics is theoretical. Real life is not.
To these cultists, nothing can penetrate their admiration for a man who has accomplished nothing, a mysterious figure with a network of enablers who are hypnotized by his elusiveness. Through it all, none of these people – my most recent Internet poll had his number of admirers at 52 percent – has any interest in simple logic.
The real story of the Carter-Williams trade was that it involved a player Hinkie himself had drafted. Didn’t the GM’s extensive analytics research reveal that Carter-Williams was not much of an outside shooter? There was no computer analysis that revealed a tendency to turn the ball over? These flaws were not evident 21 months ago?
When Hinkie traded his own hand-picked point guard at the deadline last week, he revealed two things he would prefer to hide for as long as possible. The first is that his ability to evaluate talent is vastly overrated. And the second is that he has no actual plan to rebuild the team.
How can I be so sure? Well, let’s start with the basic ingredient in every rebuilding plan, the players. Does Hinkie have any specific college stars in mind right now? No, doesn’t know where he will pick in the lottery this year, and even less of a notion of whom, or even what year, all of these future picks will be.
Plus, all rebuilding plans need a timetable. Hinkie used more than 300 words to say nothing when asked for a date when the team will be a contender again.
The follow-up question was: How will we know?
“We’ll all know,” he said.
And so it goes, one insultingly vague answer after another, spouted in a mumbo-jumbo style by a man asking for blind faith in a city of cynics. Of course, in Hinkie’s analytics world, there are no doubters. A carpetbagger who emerges from his cocoon a few times a year, he even has the audacity now to imply an intimacy with the fans.
"Our fans understand that what we are trying to do is build something great, “ he said.
Not really. The father of the little boy with a Michael Carter-Williams jersey called my WIP radio show last Friday. He doesn’t understand at all what Sam Hinkie is trying to do.
“What do I tell my son?” he asked me. “What am I supposed to do now?”
I told him to buy the kid a jersey representing a Philadelphia team not run by Sam Hinkie. After all, the fans have “optionality,” too.